


Heart Made Full Metal

by AmarahOsiris



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/M, FMAB Crossover, Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood - Freeform, Heartbeats, Light Angst, Medical Examination, Medical Professionals, OMC - Freeform, Protective Sam Winchester, RWBY - Freeform, RWBY crossover, Reader has AutoMail, Set Between s07e23 & s08e01, spn crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:25:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmarahOsiris/pseuds/AmarahOsiris
Summary: Sam doesn’t know a whole lot about his new companion, but will learning the truth get him more than he bargained for?





	1. Potential Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This has literally been on my mind the last several days and I just had to put it into words. I typed this up while sitting in the urgent care waiting room. It starts out with mostly FMAB references but will eventually show signs of RWBY (assuming y’all even want that lol) Set between 7x23 and 8x01.

 

“So where are we going exactly?” Sam asked as he turned the Impala onto a stretch of deserted highway.

“My auto mail mechanic,” you said nonchalantly.

“Auto mail mechanic?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “People with auto mail have to go to mechanics who specialize in auto mail recipients.”

“So… he’s a doctor?”

“More or less,” you said, gazing out the window. “Auto mail mechanics are formally trained as doctors. Before they can learn how to treat and care for People with auto mail, they kinda need to know how to treat and care for normal humans first.

Sam hummed in response. You went on.

“There’s a lot that goes into auto mail and receiving it. There’s always a risk of infection, lead poisoning, even auto mail rejection. Sometimes, shit just goes wrong and you need a tune up. I know it makes me sound like I’m some nonhuman mecha-species, but I’m not.”

“No no, I get it,” Sam assured you. “That’s…that’s good that someone can help you. I imagine this-“ he gestured to your arm and leg, currently covered in long sleeves, jeans and a glove, “-isn’t easy on your own.”

“Well I’ve managed for the last 2 years, but I still go in to get tune ups once a month. I’m Foggy’s only patient nowadays so he doesn’t mind traveling to wherever I am.”

Sam chuckled a bit. “Foggy?”

“His first name is actually Forester because he was born in the middle of, you guessed it, a forest. He told me once that his mother said he was born right when the forests dense fog started hovering towards the forest floor. So I started calling him Foggy. He hasn’t told me to stop yet…” you shrugged.

Sam let out another chuckle. “I can respect that.”

_You don’t have a choice if you’re going on this suicide mission you call a “relationship,”_  you thought to yourself. He’d see soon enough what kind of trouble he was getting himself into being with you.

Sam pulled the Impala into a dark alleyway behind several 6-story tall buildings. It wasn’t the most ominous place he’d parked his late brother’s car, but it did make him uneasy that you didn’t have a problem with it. He stayed on his guard, feeling for the pistol tucked into the backside of his pants underneath his shirt.

You walked up to a back door to one of the buildings and knocked 4 times, then twice in rapid secession. The two of you waited, you knew what for, but Sam didn’t. Then you heard it. Three rapid-secession knocks from the inside, letting you know Foggy was here and the door was unlocked.

You went to open the door but Sam held it open for you, allowing you to go inside first. It’d been a long time since a man treated you with such chivalry without wanting to get into your pants. You’d almost forgotten what it felt like. The two of you walked through the dingy, unlit hallway until you heard it.

“You lost again, Y/N?”

You followed the sound of the voice until you saw Foggy’s face in a room lit only by a lamp that was on wheels.

“No just looking for you, you stubborn bastard,” you said with a shrug as you entered the makeshift exam room.

It had everything you remembered and expected. But it had Sam on edge, almost frightened for you. He saw things that actually belonged in a mechanics garage, and then some. Drills, screwdriver sets, socket wrench sets, and what looked like several sized blades for a metal cutting saw. He swallowed dryly.

“No need to be scared, boy, those tools aren’t for you. Unless you’ve got some auto mail that needs fixin’…”

“Uh, Foggy this is Sam,” you introduced. “He’s been, uh…he’s been taking care of me…”

“Good,” Foggy grunted. “‘Bout time you found someone like that. You need a strong man in your life.” Foggy stuck out his hand for Sam to shake, and he did. Sam noticed he had a firm confident handshake, which matched his outward demeanor.

“Oh my god, shut up, Fog!” You said in a harsh tone, but it was softened by the blush spreading across your face. “It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it?” Foggy replied, and he shot Sam a wink. Sam just grinned. “Alright young lady, let’s get this show on the road.”

You hopped up on the table, which was an actual oak table this time, that was covered in a white sheet. Sam took a seat across from you as Foggy grabbed everything he’d need for his exam.

“Don’t kill me,” you said to Foggy with a smirk.

“Haven’t yet, have I?” Foggy returner the smirk, a twinkle in his eye as you removed your outer layers, leaving you in your tank top. Your right arm was completely metallic, almost bionic-looking, from your shoulder blades right down to what should’ve been your fingernails. Foggy wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your fleshed left arm, and placed the earpieces of a stethoscope in his ears, moving the diaphragm to the crook of your arm. “So Y/N, anything new to report?”

“Not really,” you said as the cuff on your arm got tighter and tighter. “Nothing you don’t already know about.”

“And the nightmares?” Foggy said as he released the pressure of the cuff on your arm slowly, listening.

Sam glanced at you. You ignored him.

“Haven’t changed. In intensity or consistency.”

“Pressure’s still high,” Foggy said in passing.

“What does that mean?” Sam spoke up. You and Foggy turned to face him.

Foggy eyed Sam suspiciously, and Sam wondered if he spoke out of line. But he just smiled at Sam.

“Most auto mail recipients tend to have metallic reactions to their hardware. Could be as simple as a higher heart rate or something as serious as lead or asbestos poisoning. Nowadays laws are in place that ban the use of toxic metals, but auto mail ain’t exactly cheap, and there are people who will still go black market to get help.”

Sam nodded, understanding all too well. He remembered that there were times when Dean would get pain medication and antibiotics for him or Sam in the rare instances they got sick.

“But that’s where mechanics like myself come into play,” Foggy went on. “I treat anyone who’s got auto mail, whether they acquired it legally or not.”

“Don’t give me that look, you know where mine came from.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Foggy said, and Sam smiled again. This time you caught it, and you had a feeling your blood pressure went up again. He placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope to your back next. “Deep breath, times four.”

You complied as Sam watched. He didn’t know why, but the sight of you being examined in regards to your auto mail was fascinating.

Foggy brought the diaphragm around to your chest and placed it directly over the aortic valve of your heart, listening while looking at his watch.

A minute passed as you held your breath for Foggy. You knew his hearing was garbage and it was easier for him to listen if you didn’t breathe. It made your vision swim a bit but you didn’t mind. Whatever helped the aging mechanic help you.

“It sounds like you haven’t been taking your meds,” Foggy concluded, putting the stethoscope away.

“You know why,” you grumbled, pulling your shirt back on, shivering against the warm fabric in the cold building.

“What does that mean? What medication?” Sam asked. You shot Sam a glare but he didn’t back off.

“I prescribed Y/N a beta blocker but it appears that she’s ‘lost’ it again,” Foggy mused.

“You know I can’t afford the meds. You give good stuff and if I could afford it I would!”

Foggy went on as if you didn’t say anything. “Y/N’s heart rate has been a problem since before she got her auto mail. The meds are suppose to keep her vital signs in check.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “What was her heart rate?”

“170.”

Sam grimaced. He remember when he killed Lilith and, according to Chuck, his heart rate was around 200 beats per minute and it was painful, even for someone in good shape like him. But once Lilith was dead, his heart went back to beating at a more normal rate. If you were walking around with something close to that on the constant, it was harmful in the long run.

“I’ll help,” Sam said suddenly. “How much does her medication cost?”

“Sam, don’t.” You said. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Y/N, you know your ticker’s gonna give out eventually,” Foggy said. “But if Sam here is insisting on helping, he’ll need to know everything.”

“I said  _no,_ ” You said to Sam firmly.

“And I’m not asking for permission,” Sam stepped up to the table, defiantly. Then he looked at Foggy. “Tell me what I need to do.”

You huffed in disapproval. You hopped off the table and walked outside. That was Foggy’s sign that you’d given him consent to tell Sam your medical history.

“Okay so what’s going on with her man?” Sam said as soon as he knew it was just him and the older man.

“Y/N has had cardiac problems her whole life. Long before she started hunting, she-“

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “Y/N’s a hunter?”

Foggy eyed him suspiciously. “Has she told you anything?”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. “Apparently not.”

Foggy sighed. “Okay,” he dragged a chair for himself and Sam, “I guess it’s story time then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Reader meet for the first time following Cas and Dean’s at-the-time-unknown fall to Purgatory. And despite being utterly depressed, Sam is smitten by you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, ANGST, FLUFF, DRINKING, DRUNKENNESS

Based on this song: [The Path to Isolation by Casey Lee Williams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZAS_rzgCE0&t=178s) (RWBY Vol. 5)

* * *

   
 _Artwork by me_

_._

_._

_._

One hour.

It’s been 1 hour since Dean was blown away by killing the Leviathan Dick Roman. And much to Sam’s dismay, it left him completely alone because Castiel was caught in the blast too.

Sam had no idea what actually happened to his brother and their angelic best friend, but at this point, he didn’t care. He no longer had a care in the world about saving it. He was officially done. So he found the keys to their late father’s 1967 Chevy Impala and slowly trudged his way back to the car. Bringing the nearly 50 year old black beauty to life, he decided he had plenty of time to figure out what to do with his life. But tonight…he needed a drink. Or two. Or ten.

He drove until he was far enough away from the Sucro Corp. headquarters where no more remaining Leviathans could come after him (assuming any of them survived) and stopped at the bar in some unknown town.

He walked into the bar, not bothering to look at everyone staring at him and his black ooze covered flannel. He supposed he should’ve shed it before coming inside, but damnit he just lost the only family he had left. Fuck what everyone else thought of him right now.

He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The man who was bartending gave him a curious look, but Sam just nodded his thanks, not bothering to look up.

He drank his beer in silence, reflecting on the past. He tried to figure out what was next, but the alcohol mixing in with his bloodstream complicated that. So he just passed the time, drinking.

Just when he thought he was on the verge of being too drunk to drive home, he heard the feedback of a microphone turning on. He turned his head towards a small stage and saw a woman approach the mic. She had an array of musicians behind her, but he paid them no mind. Sam wasn’t going to deny she was pretty, but he found it very unusual for her to wear so many layers, gloves and scarf included. The bar wasn’t all that crowded, but even Sam was starting to swear in his t-shirt, his jacket and flannel long since discarded on a neighboring bar stool.

She looked back at someone sitting in front of an elaborate keyboard, gave them a nod, then turned back to face the desolate audience.

When she opened her mouth to sing, it was as if she was singing only for Sam. Her voice completely entranced him.

_It starts_

_With the unexpected loss_

_Of something dear._

_The warmth._

_That comforted and cradled_

_Just disappeared…_

The piano was only softly playing in the background but Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the Y/E/C eyed cloaked woman.

_And in its place there’s nothing_

_Just an endless empty hole._

_The light that showed the way is gone_

_And darkness takes control._

_Bitterness and anger_

_Are quick to fill the void_

_The path to isolation_

_Is lit…with the dreams that lay destroyed._

Suddenly an upbeat tempo started up behind her, and she bobbed her head to the music, seemingly losing herself in the moment. She no doubt had Sam’s full attention now.

_The cold_

_Seems to grow, in my soul, it’s consuming me._

_Confused_

_And I’m losing myself in the storm._

_Growing jaded_

_Being pushed, being pulled, I’m unraveling._

_Can’t find myself when I’m constantly forced to conform!_

Taking a breath, she locked eyes with Sam for a heartbeat, and almost missed her mark, but she kept up with the quickening pace of the song, just as Sam’s pulse quickened its pace.

_Enemies surround me, but the worst appear as friends_

_Liars and pretenders only seek to reach their ends_

_Everything is breaking_

_Right before my eyes_

_Looking in the mirror_

_I see someone that I don’t recognize!_

Sam now had to wonder if it was a coincidence that she was singing a song that could easily Sam’s entire life anthem. The piano did a small solo before the rest of the band joined back into the song.

_Mirror, what’s the thing I see?_

_Who is staring back at me?_

_A stranger to my heart has filled my mind!_

_Mirror_

_Help me_

_Who_

_Am_

_I?!_

The music crescendo’d off as the most beautiful piano piece played for the entire room, ending the song. Sam looked around to see literally everyone entranced by the song. Some of the bar patrons even had tears running down their faces, too drunk to wipe them away. Applause, cheers, and a standing ovation followed, but the woman just bowed quickly. But when Sam looked back at the stage, the woman was looking right at him. Their eyes locked in an intense stare, though not a hint of confrontation was in her eyes. Sam saw a wealth of emotions in them. Fear. Hollowness.  _Empathy._  Yet they held several thousand shades that rivaled Sam’s own spectrum hazel. Almost like something was holding her back from showing how brilliant she was.

Sam smacked himself internally for thinking such irrational thoughts. The bartender offered him another beer, but he opted for a glass of water and some greasy bar food instead. He  _needed_  to be able to drive home. Or…whatever he could make as home.

The bartender brought him his food and went back to pour a glass of soda. When Sam looked up from taking a bite out of his nachos, he saw the bartender’s face break out into a wide, toothy smile, then he saw who was receiving the soda.

“Beautiful job, as always, Y/N!” The bartender exclaimed, but as she went to pull out some cash, the bartender shot her a stern look. “What have I told you?”

“But Arty!” you whined, trying not to sound so pathetic, “This is the fifth night in a row where I haven’t paid for my drinks! You gotta make a living somehow! At least let me give you a tip.”

“No can do, sweetheart, with a voice like that and how little the boss is paying you already, you need to keep your money. I’ll manage.”

Sam acted before his brain could register. He slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar and slid it over to Arty. “What if someone else paid for her?”

Both you and Arty snapped your heads in Sam’s direction. Arty was beside himself with gratefulness, but you looked worried. Scared even. Sam was starting to wonder if he needed to be behind you in case you collapsed.

Your words just kind of vomited all over Sam.

“N-No, please, sir, I- t-thank you f-for your kindness, b-but it’s not necessary. I really do appreciate it, really I do! But you see I don’t have much money and I would really have no way to pay you back and I-”

Sam got up from his seat and reached out to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. He thought you were going to run away, given how tall he was and tall you…weren’t…but it appears his gentle touch just caused you to look up at him with pleading eyes.

“I don’t mind. Really. In fact, I insist. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. And talent like that…well,” Sam chuckled shyly, “it deserved to be rewarded.”

You smiled at the tall stranger in front of you, with his long chestnut mane brushing against his broad shoulders, eyes that held dozens of hazel hues, and a face that you were certain God himself hand-sculpted. Nodding back at Arty, you brought yourself to as full a height as you could, sticking your left gloved hand out.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Sam took a breath, deciphering whether or not to give you his real name or one of his alias. He supposed it didn’t matter. He was probably one of the last hunters alive at this point, and he was tipsy and not thinking with his upstairs brain at the moment. So…what the hell, right?

“Sam. Sam Winchester.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day, Sam and Foggy discuss Y/N’s past to a certain extent. Y/N does something that causes her to take a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: ANGST, EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, WHUMP, SMOKING, TALK OF DEMON DEALS, HELLHOUNDS, DEATH AND DYING, HURT!READER, SEIZURE, TALK OF MEDICAL EMERGENCIES
> 
> A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s sent their love! I didn’t think about turning this into a series, but I’m glad I did!

  
_Artwork by me_

_._

_._

_._

Sam and Foggy had their heart to heart about you while you were still outside. You never told Foggy that you started smoking again, and were thankful because you knew the old mechanic would tear you a new one. Literally…he had the tools for it.

But you also knew it was contributing to your altered vital signs. Each drag you took off your smoke cranked your heart rate up just a little bit more. Nicotine always gave you an adrenaline rush like it was supposed to, but you also knew it was slowly killing your voice. If there was ever a reason to quit, it would have to be that. So halfway through your cigarette, you tossed it away, stomping it on the ground with your boot. You placed two fingers gingerly along the side of your jaw, feeling the artery beneath them quiver at a dangerously high pace.

You dug into your pocket to find some breath mints and your odor-neutralizing spray. You popped the mints into your mouth and quickly spritzed yourself with the spray, hoping it did the job of eating away at the secondhand smoke lingering in your clothes.

You went back inside, but hung back to hear what Sam and Fog were talking about.

* * *

“Y/N wasn’t raised in the life like you were,” Fog said, Sam perched on his stool listening to him with bated breath. “Her entire family was mauled by a hellhound. Now before you ask, her father sold not just his soul, but the souls of his wife and two out of three kids. Y/N wasn’t in his life at the time.”

“I wasn’t aware crossroads demons could do that,” Sam replied, scratching his chin,  “Crowley used to be against the collecting of childrens’ souls.”

“I see you’re familiar with the King of Hell,” Fog mused, “you’re right about that, but the particular demon was rouge and paid dearly for his crime when Crowley took the throne. Sadly for Y/N, by the time she figured it out, it was too late. She wasn’t close to her family, but it did mess her up bad.”

“How bad?” Sam inquired.

“Bad enough to lose my arm and leg,” you said, walking into the room to join the men, “but that’s not a story for Foggy here to share.”

“Y/N/N, he needs the intel if he’s gonna be your caretaker,” Foggy suggested.

“He’s not my caretaker!” you protested.

“I am now,” Sam pushed back, standing to face you, “and I meant what I said. I want to help you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but then you looked back at him with an intense stare.

“Why?” you asked finally.

“Beg your pardon?” Sam asked in return.

“Why? Why are you helping me? What do I have that makes you so interested? I’m nobody. I’m nothing special. I sing at a bar for God’s sake. I’m-”

“Worth saving because I believe it so,” Sam interrupted. You stared at him incredulously. Foggy kept his amused grin to himself. “And again, I’m not asking permission. Maybe you think you’re nothing special, but I see otherwise. And that…well, that’s good enough for me.”

“Taking a big risk with me, dude,” you chided.

“I have nothing left to lose,” Sam replied stoically. You blinked at him, but he averted his gaze.

He started sniffing the air around him.

“What’s that smell?” he said, his nose wrinkling up into his face. Then his sniffing led him towards you.

_Fuck,_  you thought.  _Busted._

Before you could say anything against it, he started digging through the pockets of your jacket and pants until he pulled out a pack of reds. He held them up and glared at you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N!” Foggy spat angrily, “you told me you fucking quit!”

“Yeah well, shit happens!” you yelled back, in no mood to be chewed out.

“Table. Now!” Foggy growled, slapping the oak slab.

You didn’t argue. You removed your jacket and hopped back on the table as told.

A few minutes of having your vital signs checked had Foggy shaking his head. But you kept up the murderous glare in Sam’s direction. You were really starting to hate him now.

“Y/N, you need to go to the shop. This is bad. You’re gonna stroke out!” Foggy said, throwing his stethoscope across the room and grabbing his coat and car keys. “C’mon I’ll take you.”

“No.”

“Y/N, as your mechanic, I cannot allow you to leave. You need to be seen.”

“Fuck you,” you spat back. “I don’t care what you think, and you’re certainly in no position to order me around.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, the worry evident in his voice.

“Y/N’s blood pressure is dangerously high. We’re talking over 220 systolic. If she isn’t admitted soon, it’s gonna be bad. I have all the equipment to restart her heart here, but she needs medication that only an auto-shop has.”

“Damnit Sam, if you’d just minded your own business!” you yelled angrily, but that shout took a lot of energy out of you. Your cockiness started wavering.

“Auto-shop?” Sam asked, completely ignoring you.

“Hospitals can only do so much for patients with auto-mail,” Foggy went on to explain, “auto-shops are private hospitals that only treat auto-mail recipients.”

“Guys…” you started, feeling woozy and light headed.

“How close is the nearest one?” Sam asked, not hearing you.

“About an hour away if you got secret access like me,” Foggy answered.

“Hey guys…” you said again, the headache forming behind your brainstem pounding in time with your rapid heartbeat.

“What do you need from me?” Sam inquired, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on.

“You’ll drive, I’ll do what I can to stabilize her in the event she goes under.”

You were about to start yelling at them, but your mind short circuited and everything went fuzzy, like the white noise of a busted analog TV playing in the background of your vision.

You blacked out, collapsing onto the concrete floor.

Sam and Foggy practically tripped over themselves trying to protect your head from the hard floor as you jerked your way through a grand mal seizure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Foggy rush Y/N to an auto-shop, a hospital specifically for automail recipients. During the chaos, Sam has flashbacks from when him and Y/N first met, and how she became the way she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: ANGST, MEDICAL STUFF, HOSPITALS (kinda), EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

_Artwork by me_

.

.

. 

The seizure that took control of you didn’t last as long as Foggy had feared, but it still left you in a state of comatose. Sam and Foggy were thankful you didn’t lose your vital signs, but your blood pressure was still dangerously high. You could have another seizure at any time, or something worse. Foggy grabbed your keys and bag while Sam collected you into his arms and followed the mechanic out towards an old beat up van.

The back of the van looked very much like the inside of an ambulance. There was a cot strapped to the side, a bench seat for a caretaker to care for a patient, the walls covered in cabinets and drawers, filled with medical supplies as well as things used to treat automail.

“You drive,” Foggy called out as Sam laid you down in the back,  “I got her from here. I’ve got enough shit back here in case something goes sideways again.”

“You’re gonna be my GPS, right?” Sam called back as he climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat’s position to accommodate his long legs.

“Pull out from the alley and take a left,” Foggy yelled, working on applying EKG electrodes to your body. You were still out and probably wouldn’t stir for a while.

Sam did just that and drove passed his brother’s Impala. “Where now?”

“You’re gonna go 4 miles on this road, then enter the highway from the left,” Foggy called back, working on starting an IV in your arm.

Sam followed Foggy’s instructions and before knew it, they were on the freeway heading towards a hospital that specialized in automail recipients. “How’s she doing?”

“Blood pressure is still high, that hasn’t changed,” Foggy started, pulling his stethoscope from his ears, “but I’ve got her on every monitor this old beast has. If something happens, I’ll know it.”

“What’s worse case scenario?” Sam asked.

“Worse case is she dies, obviously,” Foggy mused, sending a shiver down Sam’s spine. “But even worse than that is she dies and we can’t bring her back.”

“ _We?_ ” Sam clarified. “What will I be doing?”

Foggy snaked his way up towards the front of the cabin, craning his neck to face Sam. “If she codes, you’re gonna pull this bitch over and help me work her. I can do all the medical crap if you do CPR. You do know that much, right kid?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“You and me both,” Foggy said, slapping Sam on the back of his shoulder and returning to the bench seat in the back. “Exit 249 is where you’ll wanna go. After that, it’s gonna be on your right. It’s a rundown looking place with no signage but you’ll know it when you see it. Trust me.”

Sam took the old man’s word for it and kept driving. It was gonna be a good 15 miles before that exit was upon them, so he let his mind wander.

* * *

_Sam was leaving the bar that night, buzzing enough to numb the pain of losing his brother and best friend. He wandered a bit until he stumbled upon a rundown trailer behind the bar. His curiosity got the best of his judgement. He could hear someone, a woman, singing to herself, and the sounds of a shower running. His downstairs brain started making him think all kinds of saucy thoughts and he found himself walking towards the only door of the cabin._

_The door was unlocked. If Sam had had any sense in him, he would’ve made sure the door was locked and moved on, but the voice was just too beautiful to walk away from. The song the woman was singing hit a high pitched note, and it sounded like an opera singer was warming up before a big show. It made his heart race faster than the alcohol coursing through his veins could muster. He pushed the door open and found you stepping out of the shower. A towel was draped around your most sensitive parts, but your arm and leg didn’t hold the same flesh color the rest of your body did. In fact-_

_They were made of metal._

_Sam made the mistake of stepping on something that made enough noise for you to spin around and face him. But before he could hold his hands up to defend himself, you’d knocked him on his ass, flat on his back. You held your metallic foot to his chest, his heart pounding against your heel, and your arm was extended. He’d heard the cocking of a gun, but when he looked up, the 3 inch diameter of a canon met his eyes._

_“What the hell are you doing here?” you snarled._

_Sam didn’t dare let a breath out of place so as not to upset you further._

* * *

Sam pulled the aging van into what should’ve been an ambulance only entrance into the emergency department. When he came around to the back to open the doors, Foggy beat you to it, throwing the back doors open before hulling your still-unconscious form into his arms.

“Take her,” Foggy gruffed, passing you into Sam’s arms. You still had an IV in your arm, but it was disconnected from the bag’s tubing. “I can’t carry a pretty lady as well as I used to.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He looked down at you and grimaced. Your skin was barely an ashen gray; the dark circles around your eyes had grown increasingly dark, making you look like you were already dead; you were breathing but it was very shallow. He saw the pulse in your neck fluttering at a high rate. It scared him.

Foggy grabbed his bag and a few EKG strips that he’d no doubt printed while en route, and he made his way into the ambulance entrance, Sam following closely behind.

“Foggy,” an equally gruff man called out, “got your transmission. Room 2.”

Foggy nodded at Sam in the man’s direction and let Sam take the lead, following the other mechanic.

“How long has she been down?” the gruff man asked Foggy as Sam laid you down on a clean sheeted hospital bed.

“About an hour or so,” Foggy started off. Sam let the conversation between the elder mechanics flow around him as he sunk into a corner of the room. Foggy went on about how long your seizure last, your latest vital signs, details about your IV and medical interventions along the way, and other stuff that Sam didn’t catch. Sam didn’t hear a word. He was staring at your near-lifeless form on the bed as nurses and other mechanics came in to start working on you. You were hooked back up to monitors, more IV bags were attached to your arm, an oxygen mask was placed over your face, and your clothes were now being cut away for a further examination.

Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He slipped out of the room.

Sam walked down the hall and found himself outside again, close to the van that brought him here. He fished inside his pockets to find his cell phone but grabbed onto your pack of cigarettes first.

It brought back a flood of more memories.

* * *

_“ANSWER ME!” you shouted, the canon attached to your hand inching closer to Sam’s face. “Or I swear I’ll blow more than your brains out.”_

_Sam held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude! I swear!”_

_You held his frightened expression momentarily before deciding that he meant what he said. You could also tell he’d been drinking. You released him but didn’t help him up._

_“What do you want?” you sighed, feeling vulnerable now that he’d seen your mechs._

_“Nothing, nothing, I…I was just leaving,” Sam walked towards the door._

_“You’re itching to know. I can tell.”_

_Sam turned around slowly to face you._

_“Maybe.”_

_“Maybe,” your scoff made Sam nervous. “Nobody who’s seen my automail hasn’t left without getting the full monty.”_

_“It’s up to you if you wanna say anything,” Sam began, “but I’ve already intruded on your privacy enough. I’ll just show myself out.”_

_“Sam.”_

_He faced you again and met with an unreadable face._

_“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. This is what I have to show for it. I’m no saint,” you stuck out your left leg and lifted your right arm to show him what you meant. “If I tell you everything, I can guarantee you this. There will be no escape.”_

_Sam furrowed his brows. “From what?”_

_“Me.”_

* * *

Foggy and the other mechanics managed to stabilize you. Despite how grave the seizure was, that’s all it was. No stroke or heart attack. And they managed to give you the beta blocker you were supposed to be taking to regular your vital signs, so your blood pressure and heart rate evened out. Sam was just walking back into your room when Foggy was about to leave.

“Where the hell you been, boy?” Foggy grumbled.

“Had to step outside. I, uh…”

“I get it. Once you’re in love, it gets harder to witness.”

“Come again?”

Foggy raised an eyebrow at the hunter. “Don’t bullshit me, kid. I can see by the way you two act around each other. You’re destined to be together. You love her.”

“Foggy, I just met her a few weeks ago. That’s hardly enough time for love.” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He cared about you. But did he actually  _love_  you?

“I’ve seen harder falls in shorter times.”

Sam looked at the older man and thought he was messing with him. He made no gesture to confirm or deny Foggy’s statements, so he pulled a chair towards your beside and sat down.

* * *

_“I can say this with absolute certainty, Y/N. I’m not a saint myself.”_

_“Then maybe you understand why you can’t know anything about me.”_

_“Look, Y/N. From what I gathered back at the bar, and judging by the song you sang tonight, you’re hurting. And lonely. I know a thing or two about that.”_

_“Who said the song was about me?”_

_“Did you write the song?” When you said nothing, Sam grinned. “Look, I normally wouldn’t do this with just anyone. But… I think we could help each other out. With company. I’m hurting and lonely myself. I wouldn’t mind the companionship.”_

_“You’d be risking a lot tagging along with me, Sam. One way or another, my past will come back for me. And it’ll drag you along for the ride.” You walked back towards the bathroom to get dressed. You emerged, running a brush through your damn hair._

_“I should be telling you that.”_

_You stopped brushing long enough to look at Sam. And the glint in his eyes held a healthy amount of danger. Your instincts told you to run. Run as far away from him so neither of your pasts could hurt one another._

_But you also knew he wouldn’t still be here telling you this if he was just going to lie to you._

_“If you wanna tag along with me, fine.” You put the brush down and towards Sam until you were close enough to feel his breath on your face. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

* * *

It was decided that you would be released from the emergency department without being admitted to the general observation ward of the auto shop; Foggy gave the mechanic in charge his word that you would quit smoking altogether while maintaining your regular medication schedule. You and Foggy signed the discharge paperwork and the three of you left.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/N,” Sam whispered.

“I know,” you replied.

“I mean it,” Sam stopped in front of you, forcing you to look him in the eye. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Just stick with me, and we’ll get through this.”

“You’re suicidal, you know that?”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

Sam embraced you in his large form. And you knew, right then and there, you’d never be able to let go of him again.


End file.
